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Biker Extravaganza Week.

Bandit will steal your heart. He is a 6 year old Boston Terrier and as calm and in his place as you could imagine. Mark Shaffer is his driver and manages all of his appearences; he is as mesmerized by it all as anyone. I met him at Cook’s Corner on Sunday, while on a shoot for an event called “Ladies That Ride” and is meant to support Breast Cancer programs.

Since last week when I shot the Orange County Sheriff responding to the “Moon The Amtrak” event, I have had several “Biker” shoots and its strange that they have all come in a row like this.

Last Saturday, I shot the annual “Christmas In July/Poker Fun Run”, organized by the Capistrano Eagles Motorcycle Club. They collect can goods and cash for those that need it and is administered through the Mission San Juan Capistrano. The program is actually called “Father Serra’s Pantry” and from what I have heard it is their largest fundraiser each year. The Capistrano Eagles run the event from the Swallows Inn; it starts and ends there and if there was anything to say about it, the first thing would be that they are serious about helping out.

"Christmas in July", for Father Serra's Pantry, is run by The Capistrano Eagles Motorcycle Club; it features a "Poker Fun Run" where participants go from location to location, riding for the best and worst hand.

The idea is that riders will pay a registration fee(Donated) and collect a playing card at all of five stops they must make to get an entire “hand”. The best hand and the worst hand get prizes as well as anyone attending or just going to the bar, must bring a canned food donation. I shot for the paper various participants picking out their cards and trying for the best hand. Along with poker, they also had a raffle with things like leather vests and boots and smaller things like key chains and bandanas. Everyone was having a good time and really I saw a big heart in it all for helping those that are less fortunate.

It was explained to me that they had decided to do it based on the fact that what the Mission can do for the homeless and the needy in the middle of the year is a little lean. Christmas is great for giving but then July, as folks go on vacation or are generaly not around, doesn’t see too much in the way of giving. The “Christmas in July” program has become Father Serra’s Pantry biggest event in the year.

Walking the line at Cook's Corner.

Its interesting to see, what can sometimes be, this rougher set of guys and gals getting out and doing all this and with a great attitude and more than a willingness to help. To me it isn’t a surprise really as I learned a big lesson when I was a sophmore in High School about bikers.

At that age I rode my bicycle to school and everyday past Ole Hanson Elementery. There on the corner was a “biker” house. In fact it was right next to the school and it always had bikes parked on the lawn. There were always people out front, either talking, standing around or working on a bike. The doors and windows were left open all time and the music that came across the grass to the street was strong. I wasn’t scared but they were certainly imposing with their long hair, tatoos and swagger. I remember more than a few times they had several sofas out front and collapsed on them were as many as ten or twelve people just hanging out.

Winners of the Tatoo contest at Cook's Corner.

I don’t think I was worried about them as I felt to some degree we were the same although, we didn’t dress or look alike; together we were different than most, misunderstood and had a different approach on life. No one gets to be too old before they realize that society in general does not like “different” and what isn’t the same as the majority.

My suspicions were confirmed one day when I came out after to class to find that someone had “potatoe-chipped” the rear wheel on my bike. This is where you lean over the wheel and hitting it just right on the ground, while applying pressure to side, at the top and bottom, the wheel will bend agaisnt the pressure. The mis-alignd spokes try to comprehend the torque but cannot; the wheel is left looking like a big potatoe chip.The wheel will not roll through the frame and so cannot be ridden. The 80 or so bikes lined up and mine was the only one; someone was trying to make a point. I had a special admirer and had because of minor vandalism on my bike every few days I became accostumed to moving it around in order to avoid it. But now, they had found me.

Out with the fam on Sunday at Cook's.

I rolled my bike down the sidewalk and along the way I would normaly ride it; this took a long time as I had to half carry it and pull it along. I was not off the campus before the school was silent. Everyone was almost home by now. This was going to be a long day as I lived about four miles from school. I wasn’t surprised that no one stopped to help; it’s just the way it is.

The biker house is about a half mile from the school and as I came up to it, I could see they were all out in the yard. I was scared as I would have to pass right by, just inches from them, and wondered if they would add to my troubles. I had no reason to feel this way and although I didn’t expect it after carrying my bike that far I was not in a good mood.

Serious fun on a sweet ride.

This was towards the end of the year, a Friday, and the sun was out. They had two sofas, a couple chairs and several bikes all around. The music was loud and they were enjoying the sun and drinking beer out of the bottle. Twenty feet, ten feet, five feet…passing the corner…they hadn’t noticed…keep going I thought and then…

“Hey…Hey kid…what are you doin?…Hey kid….” His gruff, scratchy voice called out, not really asking, but demanding.

The music got louder and quieter all at the same time. I was on the surface of the sun. I was taught to always address adults politely and so I turned to him and answered.

“…going home…” I said.

He stood there looking down at me from only a few feet away. He was tan with long hair and had a big necklace of seashells around his neck and a few other plain leather ones. He wore no shirt and only jeans with “The Boots”. This was 1979 and I saw it all in oversaturated kodak color, surrounded by a glossy white border. The rest of the group looked on mildly but not really paying attention.

“…what happened to your bike?…” he asked.

“…someone bent the wheel…”I replied.

“…that’s fff’ed up…”he said, pointing his beer at the bent wheel.

He didn’t say anything else and bent over the wheel and with what I imagined would have been the same manouver that caused it, bent it back. He stood again and twirled the wheel. He stopped it a few times and in the more troublesome spots, “adjsuted it” with hands that were obviously used to fixing things. He finished and leaned the bike my way and I took it.

“…what’s your name?” he asked.

“…David …”I replied simply.

“…No charge, David…see ya’ round…” he said with a nod and hadn’t finished his sentence before he was walking back to the house.

“..Thanks…”I said with a relieved smile and hit the road. I wasn’t too far off before I heard several voices call out after me.

“…See ya’, David…”

I didn’t stop there again but I saw my new friends everyday and we always said hello; they knew my name and they never missed saying it.